A Cold War Coming
by tesstesstessa
Summary: "Offers?" she chuckled. "What kind of person offers a job to you?" Seeing the seriousness in his face, she sobered. "What kind of job?" "The dangerous kind." Her lips twitched in a wistful half-smile. "There's no other kind for you, is there?" James/Lily one-shot.


Copyright Jo Rowling. Cover art belongs to the amazing viria13. All lyrics are taken from 'Life in Technicolor ii' by Coldplay (!).

**A/N:** Written for the Create-A-Potion challenge. I know, it's short (okay, really REAAAALLY short), but I liked it better this way! The lyrics are only an add-on, they didn't inspire anything. This is just me pushing my music taste on you all, again. Read on!

* * *

_"Oh, love, don't let me go_  
_Won't you take me where the streetlights glow?_  
_I can hear rain coming, I can hear the sirens sound,_  
_Now my feet won't touch the ground."_

"You know what I miss?" James said, peering through the golden liquid in his glass at Lily. The Firewhiskey turned her cheeks warmer, her lips redder, her hair darker. He could still see the sparkle in her eyes. She smiled at him, taking a sip from her own glass.

"What?"

"Hogwarts. Life in school was so easy, y'know?" He put his glass down, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.

She reached for his hand and grasped it tightly. "I know what you mean. But the real world is a fresh start."

"Change is only good when it's good," he commented, staring into the depths of his Firewhiskey. She didn't ask what he meant; they both knew he was talking about the war raging around them like a tornado. But days like these, in nameless wizard pubs with Lily across the table from him, he felt like he was standing in its eye. He could live in the eye of the tornado, he thought. "It feels like things are falling apart."

"I'll teach you how to sew them back together," Lily said jokingly. He smiled.

"Sewing's a nice skill. James Potter, Master Seam - seamster? What do they call a male seamstress anyway?"

Lily laughed, the sound automatically widening his smile. "James Potter, Master Seamster. That's terrifying, that is."

"Suits me perfectly," he replied, leaning forward on his elbows. "Merlin knows it'll take up my time."

"You just don't have enough to do," Lily said. "Go get a job, then."

"I've had offers," he said slowly. That made her start.

"Offers?" she chuckled. "What kind of person offers a job to you?" Seeing the seriousness in his face, she sobered. "What kind of job?"

"The dangerous kind."

Her lips twitched in a wistful half-smile. "There's no other kind for you, is there?"

"No," he agreed.

"I've had offers too," she said. "The dangerous kind." He met her eyes.

"They didn't tell me. About you," James said.

"I gather they aren't telling anyone. Any new recruits about each other, that is."

"Don't say that."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Say what?"

"'Recruit'. That just reminds me of Death Eaters." He shook his head. "We're supposed to be having a fun night out. Why did we bring the war into this?"

Lily flinched slightly at the word 'war'. "There's just no avoiding it, I suppose."

"Yeah." They were both silent for a minute. "All right, enough talk-"

"And what do we do if we don't talk?" Lily asked, eyes gleaming.

"I'm sure you can think of a few things," James grinned. She laughed, and he caught the taste of it with his lips, twisting one hand in her hair. He smiled, leaning further forward-

There was a sudden, resounding crash. They both practically leaped back, dissolving into laughter when they saw the glass they'd knocked over, amber liquid trickling over the tabletop. James managed to cover up the fact that he'd already reached for his wand.

"Lily Evans," he said, shaking his head. "You're a danger to everyone around you."

"Me?" Lily protested, cleaning the spilled Firewhiskey with a wave of her wand. James belatedly realised that she must have drawn hers too. "That was _you_, Master Seamster!"

"Hey, there's no way I could ever be that clumsy," said James.

"Yeah, right," she laughed.

He pointed at himself. "Quidditch star, remember?"

"Mmm, I distinctly remember your modesty too."

"No, you took that from me easily enough."

Their laughter echoed through the room. "Here's an idea," Lily said suddenly.

"I'm all ears."

She grinned widely, her whole face lighting up. _"Marry me."_

Time stopped. James thought he'd forever remember that moment, the way the pub seemed to glow warmer in the aftermath of her words, the way her cheeks flushed and her smile made his stomach go funny. He swallowed. "Sorry?" James laughed, trying to sound casual. The words came out slightly strangled.

"You heard me!" She rested her chin on her hands, grinning at him from across the table. She only looked more amused at his befuddled expression.

"Lily, are you drunk?" he asked cautiously, patting her forearm.

She laughed, batting his hand away. "_No_, I'm proposing to you."

"Usually, you know, it's the other way around," he said. His blood was roaring in his ears - he wished he could just think for a moment. And preferably not sound like a pansy while doing so.

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry to damage your precious male ego."

"You ruined my plans, you know."

"I didn't - _what_?" It was her turn to look surprised. "Plans? What plans?" James wasn't sure if she sounded ecstatic or terrified.

He pulled a little velvet box from his pocket, looking at it mournfully. "I suppose I'll just have to save this for another day, then-"

"Absolutely not!" she said, hitting him lightly on the forearm. "Open it now."

"_Here?_ I told you this was planned. We'll need to find a moonlit garden, where the air's thick with the heavy scent of flowers-"

"James Potter," she said threateningly. "I've got my wand out."

"I love it when you talk like that," he said teasingly.

"Oh, Merlin, please let those not be your pre-proposal words," Lily said faintly.

In hindsight, she'd really asked for it.

"Lily Charmaine Evans, will you marry me?" James asked, opening the box. She stared at the ring. She stared at him. She stared at the ring again. Her mouth became a perfect little O of surprise. It was a simple thing; his mother had said so too, but she had also said that Lily was a sensible girl, and she'd see the elegance in it. The expression on her face told him that his mother had been right, as usual. He spared a moment for regret, wishing he'd been able to make it more special, instead of in a dingy, dimly-lit old pub. He tried to catch her gaze. "Haven't got all day, Evans. Or should I say, Mrs. Potter?" This time, he managed to sound as uncaring as he'd intended. Why wasn't she saying anything? He was suddenly terrified. She began to speak, and he forgot to breathe.

"Smug bastard," she whispered, closing the distance between them.

_"Gravity, release me,_  
_And don't ever hold me down._  
_Now my feet won't touch the ground."_


End file.
